Literally a ball and chain

Pretty sure when my husband asked me to marry him he never imagined I would be in jail only one short year after our wedding. Our beautiful, amazing, magical (from what I can remember) wedding.

Ok, so I’m not really in jail. But I’m jailed. Like ankle bracelet, gps monitored by an old man a mile away, can’t leave my house, lied to my boss, JAILED. Yes, you guessed it! I am on house arrest. For the past 9 days I have been held hostage by a walkman sized box strapped to my left leg. Of course the week and half that I have been taken by the authorities it’s a record heatwave in this little beach town.

I should mention that I live in a 900 square foot (luxurious I know) duplex that was built in 1954.  My landlord, whom also happens to also be my neighbor (lucky me!) is the grandson of the man who built it, and from what it seems, he would like to keep it a  historical monument, an homage to grandpa. I only assume this because the carpet smells like a mixture of cocaine and dog piss, the heater is just a cool vintage fixture on the wall that I’m pretty sure doesn’t have one wire connecting to anything, and their is a washing machine, yes washing machine next to the oven in the kitchen. Now I wasn’t around in the 50s but apparently women cooked dinner, and washed their husbands clothes all at the same time.

Only 16 short hours aways from my release (praise jesus) I sit here and can’t help but wonder what goes through my husbands head every time he glances down at the new fashion jewelry I have paid so much for that now adorns my ankle.

In his eyes I know I was the dream girl. For years now he has loved me, even when both in other relationships, he loved me. And the more I saw that, the more I started to fall in love with him. Our engagement was sweet, and our wedding as close to perfect as could be. Although don’t count on any of our friends to tell you about it. *sidenote- open bar = memories lost. Thank god for photo booths and parents. Ok wait, where was I . . .  oh yes, my husbands obsession with me. So as we moved forward in our relationship which was now a full blow marriage! I was hiding something. It ate away at me every night. Then finally one day (night) after a couple glasses (bottles) of wine, I confessed. I’m a fugitive. Hahahahah, ok I couldn’t help myself, I just love that movie! But really, I was wanted in another state for failing to appear on a drunk driving case. I knew it had to be faced, but before I had known, I was happily dating someone, then engaged, then planning a wedding that cost my life savings (no really, my life savings, we’ll save that for another blog) and then we were married, and I didn’t want to spoil anything, cause for once, minus this secret, everything was perfect.

My wears his emotions on his sleeve husband didn’t want to talk about it, and I knew it was cause he felt the same.  We were too perfect for this, I was too perfect for this. But reality bites, and his picture perfect bride was growing horns and a tail. And it was time to figure it out.

So I did. And although turning myself in, for a disgusting crime of DUI that I will never forgive myself for, the judge took no mercy and slammed her gabble right onto my ankle. House arrest for 10 days.

In all bad, there is good. Thats what I tell myself. And if these past 9 days (one more to go!) have taught me one thing it’s that we only have this one life, and we deserve to  live it right.  Im learning to become a housewife. To not take work/ life/ myself so seriously. To appreciate being outside, and social media. And lastly, to do the dishes and make our bed everyday, cause it makes me happy. And you know what they say, happy wife, happy life

 

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